Page 58 of The Starlit Ring (The Chronicles of Liridin #1)

M arius, Fallamor, Toral, and I crowded into the Star Room with only hours to spare before dawn.

Pain knocked at my temples. Exhaustion ate away at my peripherals. Marius’s hand was cold in mine, but his firm grip was grounding.

The Northern Lights shifted above us. The globes of light, drifting lazily, brightened as they sensed us.

Toral gasped aloud, his dark eyes flitting from the shimmering stars to the aquamarine pillars. “I had no idea this room existed.”

“Well, it’s a secret,” said Marius, turning in a circle as he gestured broadly around us. “So don’t tell anyone.”

Fallamor, too, was mesmerized, stunned by the ceiling, the lights, the gemstones. “I’d heard of this place,” he said. “But I never envisioned it like this.”

“You’ve heard of it?” said Toral, eyebrows leaping in surprise.

“From Marius,” said Fallamor. He raised one shoulder up and down. “Hardly anything scandalous.”

“I feel left out,” Toral pouted.

“Don’t,” said Fallamor. “He was incoherently drunk when he told me. Afterward, I had to drag his ass to bed, and he threw up on my shoes.”

I bit back a laugh.

“Thanks for reminding me,” Marius said, rolling his eyes. “Sorry about your shoes.”

“Gods.” Toral spun to face Marius and I, still hand in hand. “Are you two sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” I said, glancing quickly at Marius.

“Yes,” he echoed. He gave my hand an affectionate squeeze and returned my gaze with such fondness that the most strained parts of me finally start to relax.

“And you’re sure you can grant us clemency if King Amonrew retaliates?”

Marius nodded. “I doubt he would dare alienate his allies over this, but yes, I can. Besides,” he shrugged. “If two witnesses sign the contract, the marriage is legally binding, and they can’t dissent it.”

I was a bit short of breath at that. Legally binding. Contract. Gods, this was real.

Fallamor looked unconvinced but remained silent.

“Then by all means,” said Toral. His great wings flexed and caught the air as he walked. Starlight glittered on their glossy surface. “Let’s begin.”

Prince Marius produced the familiar box from his pocket. Its energy practically pulsed throughout the room. He set it on the altar and turned to me. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

I nodded. Though my heart threatened to beat free of my chest, I knew I would regret it if we didn’t try.

The whole thing was wildly impulsive, but neither Toral nor Fallamor tried to talk us out of it.

Both seemed to understand that there was more at stake here than a torrid love affair.

Regardless, they appeared to care for Marius a great deal, and I was grateful that they were so willing to help us commit what would surely become the scandal of the century .

“Gods,” said Fallamor, stepping closer, neck craning to get a better look at the box. “I never expected that the ring would feel so… angry.”

“It’s always like that,” said Marius, scratching the back of his neck. “And it will be until it’s passed on.”

“I’m eager to see if that changes,” said Toral, wings folding neatly behind him as he leaned in to examine the box. “Will you be alright if it doesn’t?” he asked me.

“I think so,” I said, though I wasn’t so certain. “I’ll have to be.”

“Every piece of literature I could get my hands on says that this won’t be the case,” Marius assured me. “I’d never hand it off to you if I weren’t sure.”

“I wouldn’t accept it if I didn’t trust you,” I said, giving him a solemn little smile. Right, maybe that was a lie. I’d accept nearly anything if I thought it might earn us a little more time together, a few extra minutes before reality set in.

“So,” said Fallamor to Toral, “am I reading the vows, or are you?”

My chest tightened. Vows. My wedding vows, exchanged in a dusty maid’s uniform. Not what I’d wanted or expected, but there was no time. This was the best way to ensure that I wouldn’t be imprisoned for espionage or worse, that Marius wouldn’t be denied permission to marry me.

“By all means,” said Toral, nodding to Fallamor. “You’ve officiated more weddings. You go ahead.”

“Alright,” said Fallamor, turning to face us. His braid hung lank over his shoulder. After brushing pieces of hair behind his ear, he straightened his shoulders, and said, “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” I said, voice barely above a whisper.

Marius looked to me. The light caught his cheekbones, illuminated the planes of his face like the ghostly subject of a painting. “I’m ready if you are,” he said, dipping his chin, meeting my gaze with such warmth that my chest tightened.

I tried to smile, but my lip trembled with nerves. “Of course I’m ready,” I said, as firmly as I could. Shivering be damned, I clung to his arm.

That seemed to satisfy him. He pulled his hand from mine, wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me close.

“Fine,” said Fallamor, briefly closing his eyes, as though mentally preparing to indulge our nonsense.

“Then do you, Prince Marius Mentis Harel of Tocchia, take Princess Talina den Grauten of Olmstead as your beloved wife, to honor and respect, until the end of your days, or until one of you gets frustrated and shoves the other one out a window?”

A little laugh burst out of me. Marius caught Fallamor’s eye, shook his head, gave a long-suffering sigh, and said, “I do.”

“Are the window clauses customary?” I asked.

“No, but they are necessary,” said Toral with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Trust me. I’ve known Marius long enough.”

“I’d never shove you out a window,” said Marius quickly, grasping my hand firmly in his. “I should’ve disputed?—”

Fallamor flipped his braid over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. “Do you want to be married or not?”

“Yes,” I said, instantly at attention.

“Then I’d like to continue, please. Do you, Princess Talina, take Prince Marius as your beloved husband, to honor and respect and possibly shove out a window, until the end of your days?”

“Yes,” I said, a little breathless. “I do.”

“And do you accept the burden of this ring, to keep in the custody of the den Grauten family for the next hundred years?”

Blood roared in my ears. This was what I was really afraid of.

That ring, furious and reeking of death, eternally encircling my finger.

This would be no token from the man I loved, but a curse.

One that I was determined to bear. Even if Marius assured me that it wouldn’t stay like that, I would never be able to forget the way that it felt now, sullen and repugnant.

“I do,” I whispered .

“Excellent,” said Fallamor, waving a hand. “You may kiss, and all of that.”

“ Not all of that,” amended Toral with a knowing smirk. It cut through his sharp features, added a roguish charm to his dour exterior.

“I wouldn’t invite you two to watch, anyway,” said Marius, turning to me. Though outwardly at ease, a muscle twitched in his jaw, and he carried tension in his shoulders.

But his eyes held a brilliant warmth and affection, a fathomless desire that sent heat flaring in my belly.

I rose up on my tiptoes, closed my eyes, and kissed him. Full on the mouth, but brief. I ached when we parted.

“Now for the hard part,” said Toral. From his pocket, he produced a simple dagger. No jewels encrusted the hilt, only a simple carving of leaves and thorns.

Marius nodded, swallowed hard, and opened the box.

I choked down my anxiety like a foul elixir and held out my hand.

“Ready?” said Toral, looking first at Marius, then at me.

“Never better,” said Marius, words wavering in a way that suggested he had definitely been better. With the resolve of a soldier off to battle, he held out his arm.

Toral took his hand. For the first time, I noticed the dark stains in the box’s lining. A shiver darted down my spine.

The tip of the dagger drove into Marius’s fingertip. He winced. Blood dribbled free, pooling in the center of the ring’s empty prongs.

Toral released his arm. Marius dabbed at the wound with one of the many kerchiefs he’d taken to carrying around. I went to examine the extent of the damage, but Toral shook his head at me. “Your turn, Princess.”

Aflame with apprehension, I extended my arm. The dagger, tipped red with Marius’s blood, pricked the pad of my finger, and drew a slit. Blood welled in the cut .

“Sorry,” said Toral. “I know it hurts.” He squeezed my finger. Blood dripped free, falling like rain, where it mingled with Marius’s. A wayward droplet stained the bone band and joined the splatters on the blue lining.

My breath caught in my throat. Not because of the pain, which was nothing substantial, but because of the way our mixed blood began to move .

At first, I thought it was merely congealing.

Then it gained the consistency of gelatin.

Still red and gleaming, it wriggled and writhed like a sentient creature, and then slowly formed a sphere.

In horrified fascination, I watched as the lumps smoothed over.

The blood hardened into something solid and jewel-like.

I stared, fascinated by the ruby-red stone that now rested in the center of the ring. Even the band shifted, its color paling into something reminiscent of silver. For the first time, I noticed the delicate carvings along the outside of the band—a pattern of leaves and flowers.

Even its terrible aura had faded into something nearly undetectable. Its pulse weakened.

It was beautiful and deadly and suddenly I was far, far less opposed to wearing it.

At my side, Marius was tense. He’d tried to push a kerchief at me, but I was so distracted by the changing ring that I hardly noticed.

I was only dimly aware that he’d grabbed my hand and started applying pressure to the cut.

His grip softened, nearly lapsed, as he, too, was drawn in by the spectacle before us.

Someone, either Fallamor or Toral, let out a gasp.

“Fuck,” said Marius in a choked voice.